


Restraints

by Yamx



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 11:39:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yamx/pseuds/Yamx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a day out, the Doctor suddenly isn't himself. Or is he himself too much?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Restraints

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magic-7-words](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=magic-7-words).



> This is a standalone, not part of any of my series. Set shortly after _Boom Town_. Written as a Wintercompanion Fic Exchange gift for Magic-7-Words and originally posted [here](wintercompanion.livejournal.com/203386.html).

"So you've really never been here before?" Jack asks, his tone teasing. Rose hides a smile at his obvious pride at knowing a place new to the Doctor. 

The Doctor huffs. "Universe's a big place. Even I can't have been everywhere. Heard a lot about this place, though. Always meant to go."

"I've been here—oh, I don't even know. Dozens of times," Jack says, his gaze following a beautiful blue-skinned dancer moving gracefully past their table. 

"Wonder why," the Doctor says with a fond eyeroll.

Rose grins. "I bet it was the food. We should get—"

"The dessert menu, ma'am."

Rose startles. She looks up to see their waiter standing there, extending a small booklet in two of his cobalt hands. "Err... thanks."

The waiter nods politely and withdraws. Rose notices Jack's and the Doctor's grinning faces. "All right, I'm just not used to it, okay? All this telepathy stuff… 's weird."

The Doctor smiles. "It's what made this planet so prosperous, Rose. Used to be a tiny little backwater with no tourism to speak of. Then, about five hundred years ago, the population's latent telepathic abilities suddenly—bloomed, I s'pose would be the best word, an'—" 

"But how can that happen?" Rose interrupts quickly before the Doctor can get into full lecture mode. "I mean, if they were barely telepathic before, why did they suddenly get so strong?" Not that she knows much about it, but it seems weird.

The Doctor shrugs. "These things evolve. Doesn't always go in small increments. Sometimes goes in leaps an' bounds. An' the Travinians certainly knew how to put it to good use." 

"Best service planet in the sector," Jack agrees. "Always ready with what you want before you quite know you want it—food cooked precisely the way you like, clothing in exactly the shade you were thinking of, always just the music and incense you're in the mood for… Holiday and shopping paradise. Not to mention the more—intimate pleasures available."

The Doctor snorts. "Got much experience with that branch of their service industry?"

Jack chuckles. "None at all, actually—if you mean paid-for service. But the Travinians still use their talents during private encounters. And they're even more enthusiastic then." He winks at the Doctor. 

The Doctor shakes his head, but chuckles.

Rose wrinkles her nose, leafing through the dessert menu absent-mindedly. "Doesn't it bother you, though? Them reading our thoughts?"

"They aren't reading mine," the Doctor says. At her questioning glance, he taps his forehead. "I'm shielding. They can only hear the thoughts I want them to hear."

"Me, too," Jack admits. "Not that my shields are anything like yours, but I think they'll do." He shrugs.

"Want me to have a look?" 

"Yes, please." Jack leans closer to the Doctor, who touches his temples lightly and closes his eyes in concentration. 

"Yeah, not bad." His eyes open and he looks at Jack searchingly. "Surprisingly strong, actually. You been practicing?"

"A little," Jack shrugs. "I thought, with the types of scrapes we get into…"

The Doctor smiles approvingly. "Remind me to show you a trick or two. But this is fine for now. Easily strong enough to keep the Travinians from picking up on any stray thoughts."

"Oh, great." Rose slaps the dessert menu on the table, annoyed. "So I'm the only one whose stray thoughts are wide open for anyone to have a look?" She glances around the restaurant, suddenly uncomfortable.

"Nah—well, yes. But don't worry. The Travinians are known for their discretion. They only use their talents to give you the best possible service." Jack smiles. "Their whole planetary economy depends on it."

"Madam's dessert." With a bow, the waiter sets down a small bowl of what looks like chocolate cream topped with a red fruit Rose isn't familiar with. "And for the gentlemen…" He sets down two cups of a hot, steaming beverage he was holding in his second and third hand. 

"Thanks." The Doctor smiles. "We'd also like the—"

"And here's your bill." He stretches his fourth hand towards the Doctor with a smile. The Time Lord smiles back, throws a brief glance at the data pad and swipes it with what looks like an oblong Christmas ornament. 

"Credit crystal," Jack whispers when he sees Rose's confused look. "Not unlike a credit card from your era, but safer. Only works for the person it belongs to."

Rose nods. As the waiter takes the pad back from the Doctor, she takes a spoonful of her dessert and closes her eyes, sighing happily. "This is incredible. Almost worth having your mind picked over for."

The waiter takes a deep bow. "I'm glad madam is enjoying her prih'sha. And please be assured that we at the Joyful Eater have the utmost respect for your privacy. We would never—"

"No, no, I didn't mean it like that! Sorry." Rose blushes.

The waiter smiles at her warmly. "I quite understand, ma'am." He bows again, this time towards all three of them. "I'm glad you enjoyed your dining experience, honored guests. We hope to see you return to our establishment soon." With yet another deep bow, he withdraws.

Rose slowly finishes her dessert while Jack and the Doctor sip their drinks – the cups smell of flowers, and spice, and something else Rose can't identify. When they leave the restaurant, she snatches a take-out menu as a souvenir.

On their way back to the TARDIS, Rose and the Doctor are holding hands and Jack is walking next to them. Or at least he was a few seconds ago—now he seems to be lagging behind. Turning around, she notices him smiling brilliantly at a beautiful azure street singer, complimenting her on her voice. The Doctor grunts and takes a step back to grab Jack's arm, yanking him away roughly. Jack throws him a startled glance, but, seeing his glare, falls into step besides them without comment. 

With a puzzled expression, the Doctor squeezes Jack shoulder. "Sorry. Didn't mean—" 

Jack grins. "Getting crotchety in your old age?" He winks at Rose, who smothers a giggle

The Doctor laughs and playfully shoves Jack. But there's a glimmer of uncertainty in his eyes.

***

As much as he enjoys Travinis, Jack is glad when he can close the TARDIS doors on the ever-present fragrance of incense. It's sweet and light, but it still starts to grate after a while. Rose leaves to put away her shopping—the Doctor bought her some new clothes and a pendant she admired. Probably for the best that he has no idea she intends it as a present for her mum, Jack thinks with a small smile.

"What're you grinning about?" Jack is startled out of his thoughts by the Doctor's unexpectedly sharp voice.

"Um… nothing." 

The Time Lord fixes him with a searching glare, then shrugs. "Well, then, stop standing about and get to work. Seem to remember telling you this morning that the nano-cerebral circuits need to be tuned."

Yes, the Doctor did say that. Right before he said, "Can wait for a bit, though. Promised Rose I'd take her shopping. Where d'you think we should go?" 

"Something wrong, Doc?" Jack asks casually. 

"It's 'Doctor' – how many times do I have to tell you?" His tone has nothing teasing about it.

"Sorry, Doctor." Jack is feeling decidedly nervous now. True, the Doctor prefers the full form of his name, but he usually lets Jack get away with calling him "Doc" with no more than an eye roll. Jack starts mentally going over the past few hours. Did he do something to piss the Doctor off without realizing? It wouldn't be the first time that he offended the Doctor, or Rose, without noticing. Their cultural backgrounds are so different. Again he asks, "Is something wrong?"

"Yes. The useless ape I travel with is still not doing his bloody job." The Doctor grunts and disappears under the console.

All right, something's up. That much is obvious. It's equally obvious that the Doctor doesn't want to discuss it right now. Pushing him is never a good idea when he's in that kind of mood, so Jack picks up a vector aligner and gets to work. But his thoughts are racing. Jack knows he can be "bloody impossible"—the Doctor has told him so many times, with varying degrees of amusement, exasperation, and annoyance. What did he do this time? Jack tends to trust the Doctor's judgment over his own, but he really can't think of anything he might have done that would explain the Doctor's anger.

Maybe it's something else. Something wrong with the TARDIS? Something he saw on the planet? It's not unheard of for the Time Lord to suddenly fall into a dark mood for no discernible reason. Jack's never been able to figure it out—he thinks it must be memories, but the Time Lord's inscrutable when he wishes to be and keeps his past extremely close to his chest. Not normal for the Doctor to take it out on his companions, though. 

Jack shrugs and resolves to focus on his work for now. If it was something he did—and that's still the assumption he leans towards, even though he has no idea what—the Doctor will tell him. If it was something else, he still might, or he might just get over it. Nothing to be gained by—

"Ouch! Dammit." Jack drops the aligner and shakes his burning hand. He can hear the TARDIS's hum change to something that he understands to be concern and apology. This wasn't a deliberate zap.

"What now?" The Doctor comes over, glowering. 

"I think I overextended one of the circuits, sorry..." His hand is starting to blister—not dangerous, but damn painful. "Do you think I should—"

The Doctor's squatting next to him now—but he's not looking at him at all, focusing on the nano-cerebral circuits. "I think you should be more careful when I allow you to poke around my TARDIS! Dammit, how many times have I told you?" He's glaring at Jack now. "Get out of my console room."

Jack feels his stomach clench. All right, he made a mistake, but this is fiddly work. He _was_ being careful. "I'm sorry, I—"

"'Sorry' won't get me back my circuit. Get out!" The Doctor's standing now, glaring down at Jack. 

He scrambles to his feet. "I can fix—"

"Don't you dare touch the circuits again! I'll do it. Incompetent fool!" The Doctor turns his back and starts working on the circuits. 

Jack's didn't mean to make the Doctor angrier. He can't understand _why_ he's so angry, to be honest, but—well, he's a Time Lord, this is his ship, clearly he understands it better than Jack. What he's done must be worse than he realizes. He tries again. "I'm really sorry. Please, let me help."

"If you want to help, get your arse to storeroom four and start cleaning."

Jack gulps. He and the Doctor spent an afternoon last week hunting through storeroom four looking for a particular kind of energy coupling. The room is a mess, and covered knee-deep in dust and cobwebs. The Doctor had said something about "getting it cleaned up sometime," but they'd both known it was an idle plan with little chance of follow-through. 

"What are you waiting for? Too good for a bit of scrubbing?" The Doctor's voice is laced with scorn. 

"No." He forces his voice to be level. "I'll get right on it. Sir." 

He goes to the medbay first, to heal the burn. The burn the Doctor never once asked about. Which is not normal for him. He always takes care of his companions' health, no matter how angry he may be with them. 

Jack slowly runs the tissue regenerator over his right palm—it's awkward, having to do this with his left. Burns can leave nasty scars if not treated properly, and the Doctor usually insists on treating them personally, even if it's something trivial like the sunburn Rose got on her nose and shoulders after they spent a day sailing. 

So why would accidentally burning out a circuit make the Doctor so angry at him now that he doesn't even care about the wound? Jack puts down the regenerator and forces himself to take a deep breath. 

The Doctor's just cranky right now, but he'll get over it. He wouldn't throw Jack out of the first place he's been able to call home in decades over one silly slip. 

Jack gets some cleaning supplies from a closet and heads towards storeroom four. He just has to show the Doctor he's honestly sorry, and then— He stops, shaking his head. Something's off. Something not his fault. He leaves the broom propped up against a wall and goes to find Rose.

***

Rose is sorting through her knickers on the bed when Jack comes in. She blushes and moves to pull down the blanket, then rolls her eyes and shrugs when she realizes that that would make him tease much worse than the simple sight of her underwear. She looks over at him, bracing herself for some lewd comment, and notices his eyes darting back and forth, never resting on anything and apparently not even taking in what's lying all over her bed.

"What's wrong?" she asks, taking a step towards him and putting a hand on his arm. 

"It's the Doctor. Is he—acting weird?"

"'Cause he snapped at you on the way home? Well, that was sort of weird, but I thought he was just grumpy."

"He's snapped at me more since. More than just snapped." He recounts the events in the control room.

Rose considers. "Well—you know what he's like about the TARDIS. An' maybe he's got a headache or something from all that shielding earlier?" Though ignoring a wound on one of them seems off no matter what. 

"No, that wouldn't affect him. Not unless he was engaged in actual psychic battle."

Rose nods, accepting that. When it comes to telepathy, she pretty much has to take the blokes' word for things. "So, what are you thinking?"

"I don't know." Jack shrugs, looking torn. "He just seems so… Maybe there's something wrong. Or maybe he really is just upset because I screwed up—"

"Or," a cutting voice comes from the doorway, "maybe he's getting fed up with you permanently slacking off on your work and wastin' time chin-wagging!" 

Jack spins around. The Doctor is standing by the door, shoulders square, jaw tense, eyes aflame. 

"Seem to remember telling you to get to work in storeroom four," he spits.

"Sorry." Rose notices Jack subtly shifting his body so he's between her and the Doctor. This is silly. She takes a step forward.

"Listen, Doctor, don't be like that to Jack, all right? He didn't mean to fry the whatchammacallit…"

The Doctor's glare turns to her. "He never _means_ to do anything, that one. Things just 'happen' while he stands by uselessly." Rose has rarely seen him this angry. Jack's screw-up can't have been _that_ bad. 

Rose sees Jack cringe and lower his head. "Doctor, don't—" she begins.

Suddenly, the Doctor grabs her arm painfully hard. "Mind your own business." 

"Doctor." She tries to pull her arm away. "You're hurting me." She's fighting the rising fear. This is the Doctor. She trusts him. 

He lets her go, but continues to glare. "Do as you're told, then."

Before Rose can reply, Jack is between her and the Doctor again, shielding her with his body. He's standing very straight, shoulders squared, legs spread and knees bent in what looks almost like a fighting stance. "Leave Rose alone. I'm the one you're angry at."

"Don't you tell me what to do. She's on my ship. She'll have to follow my rules." He makes to step around Jack, but Jack keeps himself between them. 

"Leave her."

Faster than either human can react, the Doctor snarls and backhands Jack across the face, hard enough to make him stumble back into Rose and fall. She's by his side in an instant. "Jack! Are you okay?"

"Rose." His voice is eerily calm, but his eyes are looking at her full of panic and pleading. "Get out of here. Find some far-off room and stay there." 

She's about to protest when a strangled sound makes them both look up at the Doctor. He's standing over them, staring at his hand, an expression of utter terror on his face. His eyes seek Jack's. "This isn't me."

Jack pushes himself back to his feet. He shakes his head in agreement. "No, it's not." Rose stands up, looking back and forth between the men, unsure what to do.

The Doctor's eyes are wide with fear. Rose has never seen him that way before, not even with the Dalek. It's enough to make her heart race. 

The Doctor pulls out the sonic screwdriver and tosses it at Jack. "Setting oh-oh-one locks any door in the TARDIS in a way that can only be unlocked by setting oh-oh-two. Or the TARDIS herself. But she wouldn't let me hurt you." He's visibly fighting for control. "There's something in my mind."

"Medbay," Jack says with urgency. The Doctor nods and turns. Jack makes to follow, and so does she, but the Doctor turns back. "No! Stay away from me. I don't know how long I can fight this off." 

Jack turns to her. "Rose, stay here. I'll go with him."

Rose and the Doctor both open their mouths to protest, but Jack raises his hand. "We don't have time for discussions. Rose, I can't keep an eye on him if I have to protect you, too." 

She sighs, and sits down on her bed. She hates this. But she understands Jack's logic. If the Doctor is going to turn violent—and he already has once—Jack has a much better chance to get away by himself. He's stronger and faster than she is, her long-ago bronze medal in the under-sevens gymnastics competition notwithstanding. 

"As for you." Jack's chin tips up as he looks at the Doctor. "I'm not leaving you alone with some unknown rummaging through your brain. I have the screwdriver—I can run if I need to."

The Doctor's eyes are closed and he's breathing heavily, obviously trying to get whatever it is under control. He grits his teeth and nods. 

As they leave, he last thing Rose hears is the buzzing of the screwdriver as Jack locks her door behind him.

***

They walk to the medbay in silence. Jack can see that it's taking all of the Doctor's concentration to keep control of his mind. So he walks with him, clutches the screwdriver tightly, and focuses on not rubbing his aching jaw.

When they arrive, the Doctor takes one of the probes from the blood analyzer and tries to hook it into his vein. But his hands are shaking and he misses. With a curse, he tries once more. Misses again.

"Here, let me." Jack pockets the screwdriver and reaches out for the probe. The Doctor draws back with a snarl, then he stiffens. Squeezing his eyes shut tightly, he hands Jack the probe and stands completely still. Jack quickly pierces the vein with the analyzer needle, tapes down the probe—continuous monitoring is definitely the way to go here—and hooks it up to the analyzer. It only takes a few seconds until the display starts showing the Doctor's blood composition—in Gallifreyan script, of course. But the lowest line on the read-out is bright mauve, and his stomach clenches. 

The Doctor's looking at the read-out as well. He curses. "Tisplenatium." 

"What?"

"Oh for fuck's sake." The Doctor hits the monitor sharply. "Don't you know anyth—" He stops himself abruptly and gulps. "I'm—"

"Don't waste time on apologies now. Just get an antidote."

"No such thing. 'Cause it's not poison."

"What?"

"It's an enhancer. Boosts telepathic powers by damping down the mind's natural restraints." He sends Jack a dark glare. "Guess where I picked that up?"

"Travinis. Damn." Seems like the sudden advance of their mental powers was due to a chemical breakthrough, not an evolutionary one. "But why'd they drug you with it?"

The Doctor shakes his head. "'Must have been in the air. That's why they use that damn incense in every room."

"But… it didn't affect Rose and me."

"Yes, it did. Remember I said how strong your shields were? Problem is, I'm a Time Lord. Affects me differently. Different biochemistry, different mind structure, and much more raw power. It's tearing down all my filters, mental barriers, defenses. All the stuff we push away to the deepest darkest corner of our minds? I'm losing the power to push." He hisses sharply. "And I'm not going to be able to force myself to maintain it much longer." 

"And there's no counteragent?" Jack's forcing himself to stay calm. 

"No. Will run its course though. Metabolize in about a day or so." He suddenly grasps the edge of the table, his knuckles white. "You have to tie me up."

"What?"

"Jack," The edge of the table is actually beginning to give under the Doctor's vice-like grip. "Not the time for discussions. I'm a very dangerous man. It's the only way."

"We could just lock you—"

"No! I don't want to hurt the TARDIS, either, and there's no way to make sure I won't even if you just lock me up and leave me to my own devices." The table's edge finally breaks off, and the Doctor stares at the piece of hardened plastic in his hand. 

"All right. Lie down." Indicating the bed next to the blood analyzer, Jack opens the drawer with the restraints.

The Doctor complies. "You are not to let me up, no matter what I say, until that line—" he points at the display for emphasis—"reads zero. Understood?"

"What does a Gallifreyan zero look like?" Untangling the restraints, Jack approaches the bed.

"Just like an Arabic one. Well, in fact they got it from—" As Jack buckles the first restraint, the Doctor instinctively tries to pull away. But the restraints are Purgatian silk. They won't give way. The Doctor clenches his eyes shut and sets his jaw tightly. "Hurry up," he snaps, and Jack can tell that he's close to losing control. He quickly secures the Doctor's other arm, then his legs. Finally he adds a hip belt. The Doctor is taking deep, steadying breathes. His eyes open and he looks at him. Jack can tell that he's on the edge. But he methodically tests each restraint in turn. "Good. Now get out of here." 

Jack pulls a chair to the Doctor's bedside and sits down. "I'm staying."

"What? Jack, no, I—you shouldn't be here for this."

"I'll go and let Rose out in a few minutes, but then I'll be back to sit with you. You don't leave a tied-up person alone. It's too dangerous." 

The Doctor is desperately shaking his head. "Don't quote the _Rotico Prime BDSM Guidebook_ at me, Jack, just get out! I'm losing control. 'M gonna say things, do things—"

"I'm well aware of that." The thought of witnessing the Doctor succumb to his deepest, darkest thoughts is frankly terrifying. But he won't mention that.

"This could take hours! Days!" The unconcealed pain in the Doctor's voice feels like a knife to the gut.

"Maybe I could tranq you?" he offers. If the Doctor just sleeps it off, this'll be easier on both of them.

The Doctor shakes his head. "Can't mix tranqs with the tisplenatium. Would burn my brains out." 

Jack nods. He'd feared as much. "Then I'll just stay." He leans back and crosses his arms.

"I'm much more intelligent than you could even _imagine_ , never mind come close to, and still you think you _know better_? You're an imbecile compared to me!"

Ouch. Is this how the Doctor really thinks of him? Or is it just the desire to get rid of him that's making him say it? The mind is a complex place, things don't always translate one-to-one. 

"I'll go let Rose out," he says. "See you in a few minutes."

"I said—"

"I do not care what you said, and will not care until that display there reads zero," he lies, turning towards the door. 

"Jack." The Doctor's voice is suddenly quiet, almost broken. 

Jack stops and looks over his shoulder. The wild rage is gone from the Doctor's eyes—no, not gone all the way. But it looks like the Doctor's wrested control back for the moment.

"I'm an excellent liar. Please remember that?" There's sadness and fear in his eyes just as deep as the anger before.

Jack smiles, making it look warm and confident. He holds it till he sees the Doctor's shoulders relax. Then he leaves to free Rose.

***

"So there's really nothing I can do?" she asks Jack again. He's already told her to just stay away from the medbay and let him take care of everything, but god, he looks so worried, though he won't admit it. "Why can't I sit with him, too? You don't have to go through this alone."

Jack smiles and brushes his lips against her forehead. "Hon, he'd never forgive himself if he hurt you." He gently kisses the bruises on her forearm. "He'll feel bad enough about these."

"I'll wear long sleeves," she shrugs. "But he's tied down now, yeah?"

"Yes, but... that doesn't mean he can't hurt you." Jack sighs and rubs his eyes. "Please. He'd never be able to look you in the eyes again."

Rose rolls her eyes. Both of the blokes tend to be protective of her to a degree that's sometimes annoying. But seeing the pleading look in Jack's eyes, she decides to give in. For now. 

"All right, mister." She stands on tiptoe to kiss Jack firmly on the nose. "You remember not to listen to him, yeah?"

Jack nods, but he doesn't look convinced.

"And you come outside the medbay every hour on the hour, or I'm coming in."

"What? Why?"

"So I can check on you, see if you need anything, bring you some tea and biscuits." She squeezes his shoulder. "You can leave him for a few minutes every hour."

Jack hesitates, but then he nods. "Yeah. But I need to get back to him now." He pulls her close, holding on tightly. Her bruised arm is squeezed against her body painfully, but she beds her head on his shoulder and whispers, "It'll be okay." 

Jack stands up straight and nods. He turns and walks towards the medbay, his back straight, his gait even.

Like a soldier walking towards his firing squad.

***

The Doctor's pulling against the restraints when Jack returns, cursing loudly in Gallifreyan—at least Jack assumes those are curses.

He sits down on the chair by the bedside. "You're not going to get out of those, you know?" 

The Doctor glowers at him. "You know why I keep you around?"

Jack shrugs. "My amazing looks and firm ass?"

The Doctor grins darkly. "Yes. That's pretty much it."

Jack's heart contracts painfully. He wishes. He really wishes the Doctor was at all interested in his body. But he's flirted, teased, and practically thrown himself at the Time Lord as often as he thought he could get away with, and there's never been the slightest sliver of interest. Oh, he doesn't doubt the Doctor likes him—but clearly, the Doctor doesn’t feel the slightest spark of sexual attraction.

The irony of having the Doctor acknowledge his looks now—mockingly, insincerly, and as a way to belittle him—tastes like coffee grounds. 

Jack takes a deep breath and thumbs on the tablet he brought along for something to do. He opens _The Hunger Games_ and begins to read, ignoring the Doctor's eyes on him.

"You're pathetic," the Doctor hisses. "Failed Time Agent, almost destroyed your own species, and now you think you can make up for it all by following me around like the oxpecker perching on the rhino, picking at crumbs and enjoying the protection of someone who's so superior he's not even in the same galaxy as you." 

"And yet, without the oxpecker, the rhino would be covered in boils from infected tick bites," Jack replies, keeping his voice pleasantly neutral like the speaker in the nature documentary he learned this tidbit from. The things late-night TV sessions with Rose are good for.

Something flickers in the Doctor's eyes. "Good lad," he says, and suddenly there's an honest grin on his face. 

Jack smiles and reaches out a hand towards the Doctor's shoulder, but before he touches it, the Doctor's smile crumbles into a snarl. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, idiot?" 

Jack sighs and goes back to his book, pretending to ignore the Doctor's curses.

***

By the time the first full hour is up he's intensely grateful to Rose for practically ordering him to take a break. Even standing outside the medbay door, he can still hear the Doctor yelling and cursing.

"I think he hates me," he tells her gloomily.

"Nonsense. He really likes you." Rose presses a cup of coffee into his hand. She must have brewed it especially for him—he's the only one on board who doesn't prefer tea. 

He takes a sip. The hot bitterness eerily matches his emotions. "I don't know. If this stuff is making him say all the things he normally represses..." And most of what the Doctor's been saying has been abuse and ridicule. Jack stared at his tablet pretending not to listen, right up until the Doctor sneeringly informed him that he hadn't thumbed it to turn a page in twenty minutes and might as well give up pretending like he could read. He shudders.

Rose leans into him. "Listen, you don't have to go back in."

"Yes, I do. Too many things can go wrong if you leave someone tied up. He could choke, he could get cramps bad enough he might have trouble breathing, he could throw up and have no way to spit it out..."

Rose wrinkles her nose. "Fine. But it doesn't have to be you. I can take a turn, really."

Jack mentally shakes himself. No. He can't allow that. If he allowed Rose to go through this, he'd be just as contemptible as the Doctor's been saying. He has to keep her far away from this, if only to prove to himself that he's not.

***

"Untie me," the Doctor demands the second Jack is back. "And then get out of here."

Jack shakes his head and sits down again. He pulls up a game on his tablet—some silly thing from Rose's time where you shoot colorful jewels at each other. Maybe he at least has enough brain cells left for this. 

"Jack." The Doctor's voice sounds different now—sad, resigned. "Jack, please."

Jack looks at him. 

"Please, let me up and then leave. I can take care of this if you do."

Without a word, Jack points to the monitor. The mauve line has barely started dipping. 

"Yes, yes, but I've thought of an antidote since! If you'll just let me up—"

Jack actually laughs at that. "I thought you were an excellent liar."

The Doctor sneers, all pretense of reason gone from his face. "Dammit, let me up or I'll... I'll..."

"Continue to rage impotently?" Fuck. Jack wishes he could take that back. Taunting someone as helpless as the Doctor is wrong on so many levels. Especially if it's someone you secretly—

"This is exactly what you always wanted, isn't it? Me, tied up and helpless?" the Doctor spits. "A million wet dreams come true?" 

Jack's heart skips a beat as he looks up to stare at the Doctor. _Does he_ know _?_

The Doctor's laugh sounds like a tin can full of shatter glass being shaken. "What, you thought I didn't know about your pathetic little puppy love?"

Jack feels heat rise from his neck into his cheeks. 

"Ah, _now_ you develop a sense of shame? After hanging about my TARDIS for weeks, almost getting it up every time I touch you?" He shakes his head. "As if I'd _ever_. It'd practically be bestiality." 

Jack jumps up. He has to— He has to breathe. Just for a second. He can't listen to this, he can't.

His eyes burn with unspilled tears. He will not give the Doctor that satisfaction. 

"I can smell you're crying!" the Doctor jeers just as Jack reaches the door. He ducks through and slams it shut behind him. 

Rose jumps up from where she's been sitting on the floor. "Jack? What happened? Did he hurt you?"

Jack turns away. He can't look her in the eyes right now. He can't. "I... Yes. Yes, he hurt me," he whispers. 

She wraps her arms around him from behind. "I'm so sorry, Jack."

He shakes his head. "No, it's all right. He doesn't mean it." He can't even muster the strength to try to make it sound convincing. 

The Doctor hates him. God knows why he's been keeping him around, but it's surely not friendship like he'd thought. Maybe he's just a convenient help with some of the repairs the Doctor's been planning to do for a while. Maybe he's just an amusement. Maybe... He gulps. Maybe he's being kept as a pet for Rose. 

"I'm going to go take a shower." He still can't look at her.

"All right. What about... him?"

Jack hesitates. He shouldn't leave him alone. Not tied up like that. He really shouldn't. But he can't take it anymore. He _needs_ a breather. "I won't be long." 

Rose squeezes him tight for a moment and lets him go. "Course. You take your time."

***

When he comes back to the medbay, the door is open, and—his heart stops—Rose is sitting by the Doctor's bedside. The Time Lord is completely silent, staring at the opposite wall.

"Rose?" Jack asks, and she all but jumps up and leaves the medbay, closing the door behind her. 

"I didn't want him to be alone," she says, and there's a slight tremor in her voice. 

"Rose—" he begins, not knowing how he'll finish.

She interrupts before he has to. "This is not him, Jack. You've gotta remember that. The things he said to me—I know he doesn't mean them. I _know_. I know because—" She stops, takes a deep breath and swallows nothing. "I can't tell you right now. Ask me about my father sometime. But I _promise_ you, Jack—whatever he's been saying to you, he doesn't mean it."

Jack nods dumbly. He all but came to the same conclusion, once he had a minute to clear his head. The simple truth is, the Doctor owes him nothing, and he sure as hell doesn't need him. If he detested him even half as much as he's been implying, he'd have kicked him off the TARDIS long ago.

Or maybe never saved his life in the first place.

He pulls Rose into a tight hug. "Thank you, hon. But don't go in there again, okay? It's enough if one of us has to deal with that headache." His voice sounds lighter than he feels. Rose looks at him and he knows she's seen right through it.

***

The Doctor continues to be quiet for an hour. There's rage in his eyes still, but also a slowly mounting exhaustion, as if he's fighting his demons and losing. The mauve line on the monitor has dipped further, but is still far from zero.

Jack sits quietly, too tired and worn to even fiddle with his tablet. If only the Doctor can stay silent for the rest of this.

Jack knows he shouldn't be afraid of what the Doctor's next cutting words may be. He should be ready to shrug them off, write them off as a mere drug reaction, and yet—he knows the Doctor's too smart. He will find the right words again, the right tone of voice to cut through all Jack's defenses right to the quick. 

He sees the Doctor biting his lips, like he's desperately trying to keep himself quiet. His eyes are full or regret and apology—and then they turn calculating. Jack braces for impact. 

"You're from Boeshane, aren't you?" It's said with a sneer.

Jack nods, then curses himself an idiot. Because he can see in the Doctor's eyes that he's just handed him ammunition.

"Survived the invasion, eh? And not enslaved, I see. What'd you do, run like a little boy?"

"I was twelve," he says, forcing himself to look at the Doctor's eyes.

For a second, they flicker with horror, but then they turn cold again. 

"Twelve's old enough to pick up a weapon. Fight for your friends, your family."

_Gray. Oh god, Gray._

The Doctor smiles viciously. "Maybe you could have done _something_ , something better than just running."

_Or running, but keeping hold of my brother's hand._ He feels tears gather in the corner of his eyes and doesn't even care.

The Doctor barks a short, ugly laugh. "Crying now won't bring them back, boy. Action then might have."

"You need to stop talking now," Jack grinds out. The sheer pain of the memories is turning into anger inside him. He knows it's a coping mechanism, he knows the anger is misdirected—but in the face of the Doctor's gleeful sneer, he can't help himself.

The Doctor's grin widens. "Can't take the truth, can you?" 

Jack gets up, takes a step closer, consciously towers over the Doctor. "Shut up. You're really not in a position to—"

"To what? Run away like a little bitch, like you did? Nah, I prefer to stay and do what needs to be done." The words are a low hiss, but the Doctor's eyes show pain, not contempt. 

Jack slams his hand down on the edge of the bed. A gag. He needs to find something to gag the Doctor with. Why hasn't he thought of this before? Something that'll still let him breathe, but will stop this unbearable string of abuse. 

He turns towards the first aid caddy. There must be some bandages in there. He opens the top drawer, but it's just a selection of scalpels and other instruments. Before he can close it again, he hears the Doctor hiss, "Finally."

He half-turns, his hand still on the drawer. "What?" 

The Doctor blinks and then catches himself. "Are you _finally_ growing a pair? Finally found the nerve to do something about me, rather than just sit there and let me tell you what a useless waste of space you are?"

Jack stops, his hand hovering on the drawer. He glances inside again. Scalpels—very, very sharp knives. Does the Doctor he really think he would—

"What are you waiting for, you coward? Get on with it!" There's something in his eyes that's almost like... longing.

Does the Doctor _want him to_?

He looks at the Time Lord again, sees the liquid pain in his eyes, the almost hungry way he's staring at Jack's hand on the drawer, and finally, finally gets it. "This isn't about me. It never was."

The Doctor's eyes snap to his face. "What?"

Jack shakes his head. "This isn't about me. All the things you said. You were trying to—" He pushes the drawer shut with a loud _clack_. "I'm not going to be your suicide gun, Doctor."

The Doctor howls. There's no other way to describe it. His head's thrown back as far as it'll go on the table, and an unearthly sound tears its way out from his lungs. "You've got to! You don't know—you don't understand, you—"

"Doctor." He steps close to the Time Lord, puts his hands on his writhing shoulders. "Calm down. Whatever you're feeling, it's not really you. We all have those dark impulses, we all have self-destructive thoughts sometimes. The chemical is just bringing yours to the surface. You don't really want to die."

The Doctor's eyes turn to him, and for the first time since Jack's known him, he looks 900 years old. "I killed them, Jack. I killed them all."

"Why?" Jack asks. It doesn't really matter who.

The Doctor swallows. "The war, it was—they were going to—it would have torn the universe to shreds."

"The... Time War? Against the Daleks?" Dammit, that was supposed to be a myth. But then, so are all stories about Time Lords.

The Doctor nods, and there are tears staining his face. "They brought it all back. The Horde of Travesties, the Nightmare child, the Could-Have-Been-King—" He sobs. "Nothing could have survived that. No one." 

Jack goes out on a limb. "So you killed the Time Lords and the Daleks to prevent them from killing absolutely everyone?"

The Doctor shakes his head. "Don't make me sound like a hero. I killed civilians. Children. Babies. My whole family. And there were countless innocent worlds swept up in the wake. There still are. It's still going on. I killed, I am killing, _sextillions_ of people, Jack." 

The anguish in the Doctor's voice is tearing Jack apart. He forces himself to reply rationally. "And how many of them would still be alive now if you'd done nothing?"

The Doctor looks at him, startled. Then he shakes his head. "Not the point."

"True." Jack lays a hand on the Doctor's chest, rubbing soothing circles. "The point is, I'm not going to kill you, and I'm not going to let you kill yourself." That's what the Doctor was afraid of when he insisted on being tied up. Jack wonders if he knew it at the time. "We'll wait this out. Together. For as long as it takes."

The Doctor looks at him incredulously. "Didn't you hear what I said?"

Following a sudden impulse, Jack bends forwards and presses his lips to the Doctor's. "I love you, Doctor." Hell, today seems to be the day for desperate confessions. And Jack doesn't care if nothing ever comes of this. He just cares that the Doctor know that there's at least one person in the universe who can hear this story and still love him. 

The Doctor is silent, but his eyes are huge. He takes a deep breath. "You don't know what you're talking about." 

"You know I've been feeling this way since the Blitz," he says. 

"That was before you knew—"

"Yes. _This_ is after I know." He takes the Doctor's face between his hands and slowly, deliberate kisses him on the mouth. Jack keeps his lips soft and pliant—he's very aware that the Doctor's in no position to consent, physically or mentally, so he keeps the kiss chaste and light, but he puts all his love, all his admiration into it.

When he straightens, the Doctor's face is wet with tears, and his skin looks ashen.

"Sleep," Jack says, seeing the bone-deep exhaustion in his eyes. "I'll be here."

***

Jack wakes with a start. His head's resting on something knobby. It's... Oh! The Doctor's shoulder. He looks up, and finds the Time Lord smiling at him.

"Mornin'."

"Morning. Sorry I fell asleep on you."

The Doctor grimaces. "If we're saying 'sorry' for things that happened last night—"

"No! No, you're right. Let's just forget it ever happened."

"No, Jack," the Doctor says earnestly. "I won't forget what you went through for me last night." His gaze softens and a small smile plays on his lips. "Also... there were parts of it I really don't want to forget."

Jack's thoughts race. He can't mean... can he? Or is this a trick, an attempt to lure him into false security, get him to undo the restraints?

Some of his turmoil must have shown on his face, because the Doctor's eyes pointedly move to the monitor. Jack follows his gaze.

The lowest line is no longer mauve, and there's a large round 0 next to it. 

With a smile, he opens the restraint on the Doctor's right wrist. Before he can move on to the left, the Doctor pulls him close, until their lips almost, but not quite, touch. "Are you sure?" he asks quietly. "After everything, are you sure?"

Jack replies eloquently, enthusiastically, and entirely without words.

The End


End file.
